Only If For A Night
by abitheimpala
Summary: Leo and Nico know they're going to be found out one day. But for the moment, it doesn't matter. NicoXLeo oneshot, fluff-not-quite-reaching-the-point-of-smut.


His lips press to mine, body moving forward, forcing me back to the wall, driving the air from my lungs with an 'omph.' Our chests press against one another, all lean muscle and scratching fabric. I can feel the racing of our hearts, the two beats undistinguishable from one another, speeding and slowing. It thrills me, to know that I evoke the same feelings in him as he does in me, to know that I'm not the only one with this tightening in my chest, this intense need to _be _with him, be near him, touch him, hold him, kiss him.

Long fingers cup my face, tangle in my hair, yanking, pulling, making me gasp. Lips move against one another in a dance, light brush, more pressure, lick here, now give in. I feel the pinch of teeth against my bottom lip, urging me, and my mouth opens willingly, his tongue sliding in, scraping against my teeth.

Gasping for air, I push away, breaking contact, but secure in the knowledge that he's still close, the heat of his breath brushing fingers of warmth lightly across my cheek. Raising my head, I catch his eye. He gazes back, dark eyes shining, caught by the sliver of light filtering through the crack beneath the door. A lazy blink, and he ducks his head, hands roughly pulling at my jacket, impatiently moving his body away in order to dash it to the ground. With a flurry of movement, a creaking of old leather, he does the same for himself, outer garment pooling with mine on the floorboards.

A grin, teeth flashing wolfishly, and my shoulders are seized, I am pushed, back slamming into wood. My hands clutch uselessly at the air, flailing, until I catch the edge of a shirt, a silky lock of hair. I knot my fingers in their handholds, even as they slide across my palms.

I am pinned now, one arm on either side of me, as I grasp him tightly. He's short, and skinny, but at this time, in this moment, it doesn't matter. All I can see is himhimhim and he's everywhere in my eyes and my ears and my hands as he stares at me with so much blatant _want_ that all I can do is lean over and press … my … lips … to his.

Small, shuddering breath, then he complies, bending in closer, back arching and now I'm _literally _stuck between a rock and a hard place but it's nowhere near as terrible as people make it out to be, it's not terrible at all, in fact it's brilliant and wonderful and all I can do is tilt my chin and slide my nose past his as his mouth moves gently on mine.

My eyes are open but his are closed and even though I'm otherwise occupied, I can't help but marvel at him. He's not typically attractive; he's not really even atypically attractive. White skin dark eyes black hair – he's a lesson in contrasts, one I'd be particularly happy to take. Shadows cover his face, fragmented by the lack of light, resting in the deep hollows around his eyes and I know they'll be along the curve of his neck, the pooling of his shirt collar, but I can't see because he's too close; but I can _smell_ him, cold wind and earth and _night_. Night isn't even a scent and darkness can't be smelt, but it's the only name I can give to that air that surrounds him, more a _feeling _than anything, of falling and spiralling and sadness; but beneath that … beneath that, _strength, _and heat and power so strong it blows me away.

But then his tongue slips past my lips and I'm not thinking anymore, I'm _feeling, _feeling sword-callused palms against my cheek, fingers curl beneath my chin, warm breath mingling with my own as I shudder beneath his touch. I open my mouth wider, sending his tongue sliding over my teeth, tasting my mouth.

We've done this before and I know what comes next. Reciprocating the gesture, I brush my tongue across the curve of his bottom lip, up an over, until it curls with his and my eyelids flutter shut and I tug on his hair in a way that makes him gasp against me.

Pulling back, panting, he draws his hand down, feather touches across my neck, until he reaches the collar of my shirt, pulls it roughly aside. Even with my eyes shut, I know when he's moved, the sudden cold, but then he's back, but it's different, because his tongue is sliding down my neck, and over my collarbone, and I can't help but gasp and bite my lip.

He's doing the same, but it's not his lip that he's biting. Teeth scrape lightly over the juncture of my neck, then _harsher,_ almost painful, but not quite, tongue flicking out and drawing itself over my skin, the heat of it burning through me even as my grip tightens and I pull his shirt towards me, tugging it, lifting it. Releasing, I duck my hand beneath the fabric, dancing my fingers over his skin, stilling his mouth momentarily. I flatten my hand to his back, palm pressed against the cold, and the temperature change is absurd, my fire and his ice, and it _burns_ and I can't help but wonder if this is how most people feel when they move too close to a flame, and realize they should step away, but the sensation is just so _addictive_ and they can't stop themselves and I can't stop myself and I don't want to, I never want to and I can't help but hope that maybe my wish will come true even though I know this is stupid and won't last because someone will find out _I don't care._

Running my hand upwards, I can feel the individual links of his spine, and I press a finger to each one, dancing higher and higher, and then he's pulled his mouth away and even though I miss his touch, the opportunity does not escape me. Pushing my hands up all the way, I draw his shirt over his shoulders as he lifts his arms, helps me, the garment moving past his head to hang loose in my grip. With a sigh and a slow blink, it tumbles to the ground, pushed aside as I advance, eyes pinned on my lover. Gazes locked and breath shaking, heart beats race and vision narrows. I press a hand to the middle of his chest, tan skin against pale, warm flesh against cold. Dragging it to the side, I trace muscle until I can feel the erratic beating of his heart, jumping out of time.

I step forward, pressing myself to him, pushing him back. Knees knock together, feet drag, stumbling, falling onto the bed and then I'm on top of him and he's tugging at my shirt, grip so strong it almost tears, dragging it over my head.

And then we're colliding, all grasping hands and gasping mouths, legs tangling together. My necklace knocks his chin, and he grabs it, pulling down gently, lips connecting, heated and heavy. My fingers are everywhere, his back, his chest, running along the edges of his shoulder blades, drawing a line around the waistband of his jeans, only to dart back up and tangle in his hair. His palms are flat in the middle of my back, pulling me down on him, pressing us together.

He's impatient now, rolling us over so that's he's on top, looking down at me with hooded eyes, dark hair brushing against cheeks as he presses a kiss to my lips. I reciprocate, hands on his shoulders, bringing him closer. The lean muscle of his chest is hard against mine, the hands on my sides; firm. Tilting my head, I pull away, only to place a kiss just down from his ear, trailing across the soft skin of his neck.

Suddenly, there is a knocking at the door, a soft rapping of knuckles against hard wood. With a start, I pull away, almost throwing Nico across the room. He jumps swiftly from the bed, grabbing his shirt on the way up and throwing mine as I rises, eyes wide. My heart is racing once more, but for an entirely different reason.

"Leo? Wake up! Your duty started 15 minutes ago; where have you been?"

Piper's voice floats through the door, as I shoot Nico a panicked glance, sending him very obvious 'get out of here' signals. He snatches up his jacket and steps into the shadows, darkness seeming to cocoon him until he disappears, as I cross to the doorway, attempting to still the shaking that comes hand in hand with the adrenaline now coursing through my body.

I push the door open with a 'squeak', poking a head out.

"Uh, yeah, sorry Pipes, I was just … asleep."

She surveys my shirtless chest, my messy hair, and nods, accepting the words at face value.

"No, it's fine. I did send Nico to find you, but then he disappeared somewhere …"

I duck my head, hiding the blush that stains my cheeks at her words. I know _exactly_ where Nico's been. Hoping it's dark enough that she won't notice, I mumble a reply.

"Yeah. He – he does that sometimes. Well, anyway, I'm going to go get changed so …"

She nods her affirmation and I duck inside, breathing out, safe once again … but her voice follows me, catches me, rings in my ears.

"Leo? Why were you asleep in your trousers? And how did you get that bruise on your neck?"

Oh.

**A/N**

**So, this was a heap of fun to write, and I totally enjoyed making it slightly-more-smutty than my usual fics, but you all have to understand: THIS IS A ONESHOT**

**There is a reason why the word 'one' is used in that phrase**

**one chapter**

**oneshot**

**So, while I would love to do nothing more than fulfill your wants and turn this into an actual story, I don't physically have time to do so; due to the fact I'm already writing four others.**

**So sorry about that**

**But I hope you enjoyed this anyway :D**


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